


Some things are better left unsaid

by Blackwidowislyfe



Series: They say the first day is always the hardest [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bed-Wetting, Characters Watching Disney Movies, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm probably going to have to update those tags, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Running Away, Triggers, basic warnings in there, but yeah, hiding in the vents, pillow forts, please heed the warnings, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackwidowislyfe/pseuds/Blackwidowislyfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint finds out Natasha's little secret. This goes over about as well as anyone expected, resulting in a certain red-head investigating the air vents....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some things are better left unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING. You may have noticed I actually bumped up the warning and put an archive warning on this thing. That is because this particular entry deals heavily with the topic of past rape. I tried very hard to keep the triggers to a minimum, while still making it contribute to the actual plot. I also, have not experienced being violated like this. So therefore, if this offends anyone, or is in any way wrong, I apologize. If you cannot read this, I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND. I will put a synopsis at the end, or just go by the summary. I will also put some helpful links at the end. Stay strong and enjoy lovelies. <3

It wasn't like she MEANT for this to keep happening. Pinky Bear could attest to that. Yet here she stood, again, in the SHIELD laundry mat at three in the morning. She found it was the safest time to come because the only other people here were either drunk, washing their drunk friend's puked on clothes, or in the same boat as her. They had a little support group going, and Pinkie Bear was the group leader.

 

"Really, why haven't we just sucked up and told medical yet?" David, one of the new recruits, said. "They'd probably know what to do."

 

"Because, they'd probably laugh at us and then kick us on our asses after they made sure to brainwash us," Natasha muttered. "At least that's what Pinky Bear thinks they do when they want to fire someone."

 

"Yeah, and then your handler's boyfriend has to fill out all the paperwork," Tina, joked. Natasha honestly wasn't surprised when she found her down here one night. "Seriously though, at some point, someone is gonna figure out what's going on, and then what? I'd almost take telling someone and seeing what they have to offer over this. Not that I don't enjoy our little sessions."

 

"Yeah, I love you guys, but I need sleep. They make us get up at five in the morning," David whined.

 

"Well, at least we get more sleep than the agents do," Natasha said, looking at Tina. She shrugged. And that was how their sessions usually ended. They gathered their now clean bedding and pajamas, said their goodnight's, and went back to their quarters, either to keep fighting sleep, or to try and get more of it.

 

* * *

 

"Hey hot shot," Clint said, pouring a glass of coffee. Natasha waved with a loud yawn. "Still not sleeping?"

 

"Nope," She said, slumping into a chair.

 

"Dang. You weren't screaming last night though. Maybe therapy is starting to help?" Clint said. She frowned and tightened herself into a ball. Therapy most certainly was NOT helping, all it was doing was dredging up old memories she had fought hard to suppress. She only went because she got to exercise, and the only reason she hadn't screamed last night was because she was sobbing. They had covered some of her sexual history in therapy before she screamed and broke a few windows and ended up being sedated.

 

"I don't want to go to therapy anymore," She muttered, rubbing her eyes.

 

"I know, but it gets... easier at least," Clint shrugged. "Phil made me go through the same shit when I first got here too. Hey, tell you what? We can stay here and watch Disney movies today."

 

"Disney Movies?" She asked. "How many are there?"

 

"Like.... a million," Clint said with a goofy grin. "Come on, I have all the princess movies. And you made me a promise!"

 

She snorted. "You are the only man I know who actually sits and watches Disney Princess movies willingly."

 

"So that's a yes?" He asked, his eyes sparkling.

 

"Alright," Natasha sighed. At least he wasn't making her go back to sleep. Clint beamed and hugged her tight, forgetting her space-bubble issues that were flared up again. "CLINT!"

 

"Sorry," He said, quickly releasing her. She smirked, and hit him with her bear before going and curling up on the couch. He pulled in a few of the extra blankets and pillows for them before starting with "The Little Mermaid."

 

"Can we make a pillow fort?" She asked softly. He grinned wildly at her and nodded. Turns out building shelters wasn't a skill that had been lost. They made an EPIC pillow fort, with enough room for the both of them, Pinky Bear, and some wiggle room. They watched as Ariel got her legs, Natasha slumped against Clint. He smiled.

 

"May I rub your arms?" He asked. She nodded slowly, and he wrapped an arm over her shoulder, gently letting his thumb go back and forth against her arm and hand. Natasha found the action to be quite soothing, and found her eyes drooping. In fact, by the time they finished singing, Natasha was asleep. Clint smiled and pulled the blanket up around her.

 

* * *

 

_"I don't want to-"_ _  
_

_"Shut up or I shoot," he growled. She kept her lips still and let him do what he wanted to her. She stared at the ceiling, just waiting for it to finally be over, waiting. Waiting was the worst part. It always was and it always will be. "Natasha," he finally said. She looked at him with confused eyes as he finally left her body alone. "Natasha wake up," he added._

_* * *_

_  
_ She was sobbing, she figured that out once her eyes opened and she heard the broken cries in their fort. She couldn't stop herself from falling apart, holding Pinky Bear to her chest, letting Clint hold her to his own chest. The sound of his heart was a reassuring sound, steady and rhythmic. When she finally settled down enough she realized it; she had completely drenched the sleeping bag she had been laying on, herself, and probably Clint.

 

"Oh my God," she whimpered.

 

"Hey, it's okay," he said gently.

 

"No it's not!" She said, the tears re-entering her eyes. "I-I didn't mean to Clint I swear! I'll do whatever you want just- just-" she couldn't even breathe hardly at all. Clint crushed her to his chest, talking softly to her. She couldn't hear any of it. All she could hear were the profanities (Both in English and Russian) that were screamed at her constantly throughout training, missions, rapings. All the threats to her safety, her person, how worthless she was. She couldn't calm herself down, and suddenly she realized Clint had moved her. She was in their tiny kitchen, and Clint was offering her a pill someone had prescribed her for her panic attacks. She opened her mouth slowly, before gulping down the glass of water he handed to her. As she waited for it to take affect, she trembled.

 

"It's okay Tasha, really it is," Clint murmured. "It's happened to me before too."

 

"It's not. I'm weak, and stupid," she sniffled. "I'm horrible, broken, a filthy whore. I don't deserve any of this Clint!"

 

"Hey, that's not-"

 

"Yes it is Clint!" She snapped. "You aren't me! You haven't lived through the horrors and tortures I have! No one has ever violated you on as intimate level as I have! You don't know me!" She screamed, before running right past him, to her room, and locking the door.

 

She cleaned up mindlessly before she began to think. She needed out. She had to get away. And Clint probably wouldn't let her pass without a confrontation. That left her one choice: the vents.

 

* * * *

 

SHIELD air ducts were incrediby spacious. Natasha figured Clint might have had something to do with that. She figured at this point Clint was looking for her, and had probably called Phil and her stupid therapist. She shook her head. No way in HELL was she going to deal with that. She COULD however use a snack....

 

Natasha turned back around, and after two left turns found herself over the mostly empty cafeteria. She was about to pop the vent covering off when she heard people running in. She crawled back a few inches, listening closely.

 

"See Clint? I told you she wasn't in here," Tina said. Shit, they were after her. "This base is too big. There's no way the three of us can possibly find her."

 

"And what's the alternative? Let fury find her and shoot her?" Clint growled. "No way. I promised her I would take care of her. No matter how many times she makes me feel like pulling my hair out. Now where's our next quadrant?"

 

Tina rambled off a few room numbers and then they were gone. Shit. She was being pursued. Well, she was the Black Widow. She could kill you before you had time to blink. She simply crawled back along, stumbling across Phil. He was sighing heavily with his phone to his ear.

 

"Yes I'm AWARE that it's protocol, that doesn't mean she was fucking ready for it though!" He said in a big huff. "Oh really? Well, maybe I'll take her to a non-SHIELD counselor then. ....Oh you're reconsidering, hmm? Tell you what? If you can talk her out of the vents, we'll reconsider." Before the other person had time to answer, he hung up. Phil was... on her side? About what? That it was too soon to talk about her.... sexual history? That she needed more help than she was getting? Something about his concern put a lump in her throat and she struggled to keep crawling away. She found a vent that let out over a seemingly empty room before she started crying again. Why were they looking for her? She was just a useless charity case. Hopelessly broken beyond repair. The scars on her body, both inside and out, should have proved that. She heard the door open, and looked down, struggling to remain quiet.

 

Maria Hill entered the room. She was holding a few scraps of paper, and went to a corner of the room she couldn't see. She returned with a painters palette, filled with paints. reds and oranges, and whites and creams and blacks, and the tiniest bit of green... She pulled an easel to the middle of the room, and pulled a sheet off of a canvas, and it was...  _her._

 

It was an outline of Natasha's silhouette, her face kind of sketched in. She was with another woman.... she had been completely painted in, no face, but dark brown hair, a blue dress. It didn't take Natasha long to figure out that Maria was painting the two of them. As weird as it was... It was also kind of flattering. She finally couldn't take it and popped out of the vent, landing with a light thud. Maria turned quickly, gun pulled. Natasha quickly put her hands in the air. Maria sighed and placed the weapon back in its holster.

 

"Natasha what are you doing here?" She asked, quickly throwing the sheet back over her painting.

 

"Hiding," Natasha answered. "What are you doing?"

 

"Whatever I want," Maria said, quickly trying to cover up her activities. "Does Clint know you're here?"

 

"No," Natasha shrugged. "We had a fight."

 

Maria sighed. This was so not going well. "He found out, didn't he?" The way Natasha looked at her feet was enough of a yes. "And how did he react?"

 

"I had a panic attack and he tried to tell me stuff, but I couldn't really tell what it was," She admitted sheepishly. "Are you gonna make me go back?"

 

".....Not until you're ready," she sighed. "I am going to call him though so he doesn't freak out."

 

"Too late," Natasha whimpered. "He won't listen if you call him. Call Phil instead. Please?"

 

Maria sighed but decided to indulge the girl, calling the agent instead. After that she took Natasha back to her living quarters, sitting the girl on the couch. "Care to tell me what you two were fighting about?" She said, sitting across from her.

 

Natasha took a deep breath. "He was trying to convince me I wasn't the only one who's been through... stuff," She explained. "He tried to tell me that he's wet the bed before. And he tried to convince me I wasn't a whore."

 

Maria scooted closer to Natasha. "I heard what happened yesterday in therapy," She said gently. "They shouldn't have broached that topic yet. You're not ready. And I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that it doesn't make you a whore, or a slut, or any other horrible name you can come up with for yourself, okay? You didn't get a choice in the matter. Neither did I."

 

Natasha jerked her head up. "You too?"

 

Maria nodded. "When I was sixteen. My ex-boyfriend was an abusive bastard. No one really believed me. I ran away from home after that. That's a large part of why I'm here. I want to protect people from bastards like that. If I can get through it, I know you can."

 

Natasha nodded slowly. "Can I ask you something?" She said softly. When Maria nodded, she continued, "Why were you painting me?"

 

"Oh God, you saw that?" She asked, a blush rising in her cheeks. Natasha smiled ever so slightly. "I.... you're beautiful Natasha. You're wonderful, deadly, and graceful and... And I like it."

 

Natasha nodded. That was enough of an answer for now. "Is Clint mad?" She asked.

 

Maria smirked. "No, he's just upset you ran away," she explained. "He really cares about you Natasha. As much as he cares about Phil. And he and Phil are.... quite a thing."

 

Natasha nodded slowly. "Maybe... maybe I should go back," She whispered. "Just so he stops panicking." Maria smiled and offered her hand To Natasha.

 

* * * *

 

"NATASHA!" Clint screamed, running to the girl when he finally saw her, but stopped short of a hug, knowing that she was still pretty sensitive about touch.

 

"It's okay Clint, you can hug me," She said softly. He wrapped his big strong arms around her, and for once, he was the one shaking a little.

 

"Don't do that again," He said as he pulled away, begging. "Please Tasha. I was so worried. We can fix whatever happens. Just don't run."

 

She nodded softly. In the end, what did it matter? She had good people around her. Maybe they could fix the damage. Maybe she wouldn't be broken forever... It was a pretty lie to let herself believe.

**Author's Note:**

> US Rape hotline/website: https://rainn.org/
> 
> Some help for those outside the US: https://rainn.org/get-help/sexual-assault-and-rape-international-resources
> 
> A few good videos explaining consent: 1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGoWLWS4-kU  
>  2\. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TD2EooMhqRI
> 
>    
> Synopsis for those who chose to skip: Natasha had a bad night, so Clint offers to let her stay home and watch Disney movies. This works great! But then Natasha falls asleep and kind of wets the bed in their pillow fort. She then has a nasty panic attack and flash back. After screaming at Clint and cleaning up, she seeks refuge in the vents. She stumbles across Clint looking for her, as well as Phil standing up for her against her doctors. Then she finds Maria Hill painting. They bond, and then Maria convinces her to go back an talk with Clint, which she does.


End file.
